


Crocodile

by cincoflex



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: F/M, Jupiter Ascending Fic Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 11:26:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4833608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cincoflex/pseuds/cincoflex





	Crocodile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VR_Trakowski](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VR_Trakowski/gifts).



Crocodile

“Ah, here we are, your Serenity and welcome to Zzavan,” the guide murmured respectfully as he bowed from the doorway of the shuttle. Jupiter stifled a yawn and nodded, trying to look regal and not sure she could through her grogginess. The trip had been uneventful—well, Caine had beaten her at backgammon three times, the rat—but now that they were here, she had to assume the mantle of dignity once more and speak with the council here about mining, of all things.

Weird, this life. She’d been a quick study at looking the part: wearing gowns, being seen in public as the Seraphi. That was all in front of the crowds. Jupiter could handle it, mostly now. She’d seen enough celebrities and cleaned enough of their apartments to have a handle on the lifestyle of an Entitled.

Oh but _behind_ the scenes; that was what she lived for. Quietly, firmly ruling. Making things happen. Good things. Right things. And Caine for sure was something she lived for. Having him across from her at the table, or behind her as she faced the public, having him just _there_ made all the difference. Jupiter could feel his love like a warm blanket around her, even in the briefest of glances and even now it still made her toes tingle. Along with other parts of her body.

“Oh, and there, just outside the window is a sight I’m sure you will appreciate,” the guide murmured as Jupiter stood and began to move towards the shuttle door. She paused, and shot a glance at Caine, who was already looking out the clear hull. Something of his alertness brought her over to him, and she looked out as well.

“Seraphi’s Lament,” the guide murmured. “We are honored to have it here, created by your glorious Previous. I do believe we are in time.”

She stared, even as the question left her lips. “In time for what?”

“For the Gift,” the guide replied respectfully. “It is a sacred moment; I will remove myself so you may appreciate it.” He bowed and backed away through the doors, which closed after him.

Jupiter didn’t notice, her attention focused on a pair of huge, strange double curves seemingly carved into one of the distant hills a few miles away, one chiseled curve over the other to form a horizontal opening pointed at each end. “Is that it, the um, monument?”

“Mmm,” Caine replied.

She stared at it, and gradually the shape took on meaning; began to make a hazy sort of sense. Although they were miles away, Jupiter could see that the depth of each dark curve would be nearly as tall as a skyscraper on earth. The hills themselves were pale, but under the bottom curve a trail of discoloration stained the stone there.

“That’s—” Jupiter began, but at that moment something shifted along the bottom rim of the carving. A flickering sparkle of blue light all along the edge flashed out for a moment, and then a long cascade of neon-blue water splashed down, darkening the stone, spilling in a long slide visible even from this distance.

They stared.

“—a tear,” Caine murmured.

“—From her eye,” Jupiter finished, feeling slightly stupid at this late realization. “She . . . made a mountain cry.”

Caine shook his head slightly. “No. I believe there’s more to it.”

Jupiter kept staring. The liquid flowed on, and after a few minutes the deluge began to slow, shifting from a flow to a trickle, leaving behind a dark streak down the face of the stone under the bottom curve. Without realizing it, Jupiter touched the glass of the shuttle.

“Seraphi . . . mourned.”

They both heard the guide return, and when Jupiter faced him, his own eyes were wet. “Pardon me, Your Serenity, but the Gift is always _so_ moving. I have seen it only a handful of times in my life and it still affects me.”

“You call it a gift?” she wanted to know. 

The guide nodded. “Centuries ago, Zzavan was to be harvested. We were ready, proud to be chosen for that honor. We were not. Our life essence is . . . not compatible, not suitable for it. The Serenity could have had us destroyed, but did not. Instead, she allowed us to live. She saw, though, that we were grieved as a race not to be chosen, and the story goes, she grieved with us. Some say _for_ us. The Seraphi of the House Abrasax had her gaze carved into our hills to remind us we are under her eye, and every century she . . . the monument . . . sheds a tear for our situation.”

Jupiter kept her face still, tried to appear serene. “I . . . see.”

The guide drew a breath, his smile soft. “Someday we may yet be worthy of being harvested. Someday.”

Jupiter’s grip on Caine’s fingers tightened, and she looked back to the monument visible through the glass. 

_Yeah,_ Jupiter wondered bitterly, _who were you **really** crying for?_


End file.
